


Welcome to the End of Eras

by Ashkiis



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Non-Consensual Touching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-10-23 21:57:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10728057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashkiis/pseuds/Ashkiis
Summary: It was unlike Rafe to pause, but he did so now, finger stilling against the trigger as he stared at the two of them. “Perhaps… I could be persuaded.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what's up with me! I don't usually feel like posting a fic unless I have more done with it, but lately I've just been wanting to share with the world I guess. Haha.
> 
> Anywho, I honestly don't know what direction this story will take, or where it's headed, so I'll add relationships and tags progressively.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and any feedback, ideas, comments, ect. are welcome! <3

He was reeling from the betrayal, trying to come to terms with the fact that his brother had lied so effectively. It was irrationally cruel now, Nathan realized, how his brother had given him such forlorn frowns whenever he didn’t share the same excitement about Avery’s treasure. He could hear Sam’s words repeating in his mind, something along the lines of, ‘It’s just us. You can show your excitement.’ His brother had been irritated with his guilt over his treatment of Sully, his attachment to Elena. To learn that his brother had been facing no danger, had made the story up just to get him to come along… Well, it stung. Nate stole a wide-eyed stare at his kin before turning back to Rafe.

“You’re half right.” Nate just barely realized his former partner was mulling over his insistence that he needed both Drake brothers alive.

“I just need Sam.”

The barrel of the gun was raised once more, pointing straight at him. His mind seemed to instantly clear, forgetting in that moment how much Sam had hurt him. “Wait, you’re making a mistake!” Nate shouted, hands up in a defensive gesture.

It wasn’t lost on him that Sam stepped forward, blocking the weapon’s path of trajectory.

It was unlike Rafe to pause, but he did so now, finger stilling against the trigger as he stared at the two of them. “Perhaps… I could be persuaded.” An eager grin lit up his face, and the gun dipped as he watched them, the threat dwindling.

Nate clung to the chance, however small. Adrenaline was racing, his heart pumping wildly. “Yeah,” he breathed, not quite letting relief flood through him just yet. “We can make a deal.”

Nadine huffed loudly, pacing behind Rafe and her men. “This is ridiculous,” she hissed, glaring at Nathan with the full force of her hatred. He grinned back at her, making sure it was the cheekiest smile he could manage in the face of his still very possible demise.

Rafe smiled thinly, eyeing the interaction between his partner and Nate with something close to amusement. “On your knees, Nathan,” he commented offhandedly, and the command was so sudden that Nate almost didn’t understand it was directed at him.

“Rafe,” Sam growled threateningly, but Rafe pointed the gun at him and glared.

“On your knees, Nathan,” he repeated, but his eyes were on Sam as he said it.

He complied, trying not to let his trepidation show. Dropping to the harsh stone beneath him, Nate smiled widely, doing his best to keep up his unconcerned front. “This is hard on the joints, you know.” His tone was flippant, and if Nadine practically growled at his jaunty words it just made it all the better. No one else seemed to have heard him.

The stare off between his brother and Rafe had reached the climax. Sam was practically vibrating with restrained violence and Rafe’s glower was so intense, so challenging, Nate was glad he wasn’t on the receiving end. He took a moment to survey the rest of the scene. The two gunmen had their weapons at the ready, one pointed at Sam and one aimed at him. Nadine prowled behind them, a dangerous predator that would pounce any second now. Nate could see her already thin patience dwindling.

“Join your brother, Samuel.”

The command left no wiggle room. If Sam didn’t obey, Nate had no doubt Rafe would shoot him as punishment. His brother warred with himself, the trembling becoming more pronounced as he weighed his options. Sam chanced a glance over at Nate, and he wasn’t sure what he saw in the other man’s eyes. Desperation probably. Sam obeyed _nobody_. But… _I’m his brother, aren’t I? Won’t he do it for me?_

It was crushing that Nate wasn’t sure about the answer anymore.

Seconds ticked by slowly, and with it Nadine’s tolerance came to a breaking point. With a snarl of rage she pushed past her mercenaries, pulling out her pistol as she approached Nathan. He didn’t even try to defend himself. Nadine ignored Sam’s indignant shouts as she tangled her fingers into Nathan’s short locks, pulling as hard as she could. Tears sprung to his eyes at the sharp pain, but Nate refused to let out anything other than a hiss of surprise. The pistol’s muzzle was tucked underneath his chin, and Nate knew if he tried to even breathe too heavily she wouldn’t hesitate.

“Get on your knees or I’ll do it. I’m tired of this game,” she barked, shaking Nate’s head to emphasize her point, her hands still white knuckled around any hair she could grip.  

“Hey hey, don’t damage the roots,” he piped up, unable to let the serious moment remain. Nadine growled again and pulled harder, causing Nathan to grit his teeth in an effort to keep any pained noises locked away.

From the corner of his eye, Nate could see his brother’s tense form. Sam looked utterly defeated. He stared at Nadine, knew what his disobedience would cost. Glanced at Rafe, saw no compromise there. Finally, his brother’s eyes settled on him. Nate did his best to remain impassive, didn’t want to sway his brother one way or the other. He couldn’t ask Sam to give up for him. It went against everything he believed. A man had to make their own destiny and all that, after all. But as flashes of his wife, of Sully flashed in his mind, Nate found himself whirling with the desire to beg. He couldn’t go out like this. He needed his old life back.

He wasn’t reduced to pleading though. His brother finally moved, his actions jerky and uncoordinated. Eyes blank, as if he couldn’t understand just what he was doing, he dropped to the ground, knees cracking audibly on the stone. He stared down, breathing hard, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.

“There we go. Now was that so hard?” Rafe’s patronizing tone was hard to swallow, but as he lowered his gun, Nate figured the sickly sweet relief outweighed any indignity his pride was suffering.

Sam didn’t react at all. Not even when Rafe stepped near and placed a hand on his shoulder. Nate tensed, not sure what Rafe’s intentions were, but he relaxed when he moved on, turning towards Nadine’s soldiers. “Got any, uh, rope?” he asked, his face lit up with an easy, charming smile.

Nadine finally released Nate with a rough shove. “This is a bad idea, Adler.”

If the anger in her voice intimidated him at all, Rafe didn’t show it. “Nadine honey, trust me, okay?”

His attempt to sooth his associate only led to her anger intensifying. She whipped around and lashed out at Nate, hitting him in the temple with the butt of her pistol. Nate grunted, falling onto his hands from the force of the blow. Sam was scrambling towards him, calling his name in desperation.

“Do you know how much trouble they’ve caused? How many good men I’ve lost? Don’t you dare _honey_ me,” she roared.

Again, Rafe showed no fear at her display. “I know, I know. Just humor me. Let me have my fun.” His voice took on a pleading lilt, and he lowered his chin, staring at her from under his lashes.

She stared at Rafe for a long time, arms crossed across her chest in a clear indication that she was not receptive to his idea at all. With a groan, Nate hoisted himself back up on his knees. “Geese lady, didn’t they tell you not to touch the merchandise?” he groused, rubbing at his aching head. There wasn’t blood, but he could feel the lump swelling beneath his fingers.

“Shut up, Nathan,” Sam whispered, pawing at him in an effort to inspect his head. Nate pushed him away without heat. The proximity of his brother had reminded him of his utter treachery and he was feeling sick from it. He closed his eyes, turning his face away from Sam. He let the sounds of conversation between his captors flow away, picturing Elena’s smiling face instead. Sully was there too – “Hey kid!” – a cigar dangling from his mouth. The daydream brought him a sense of relief, a shield from the peril he had found himself in.

“Break his leg then.”

That certainly regained his attention. Sam was near again, practically hovering over him. “Like hell,” his brother snarled, glaring at Nadine with a fury Nate had never seen.

“Nadine, he couldn’t keep up if we did that,” Rafe reasoned, a placating smile on his face. But Nate could see the tension lines around his eyes.

“You said you only needed one,” Nadine argued back, looking towards Sam with contempt. “What does it matter if the other is…damaged?”

“You aren’t touching my brother, you crazy bitch,” Sam seethed.

“An arm then,” she countered coolly, as if that would be an acceptable alternative for Sam to agree upon.

His breathing was starting to become erratic despite himself. These three psychos were discussing the terms of his continued survival as if it were a simple business deal. Didn’t he get to voice his opinion on the matter? “I say we let him go,” he interjected, voice high-pitched. Rafe, Nadine, and Sam whipped towards him with incredulous expressions. “You know…the quote from Pee-Wee Herman…?” he explained lamely, voice faltering when even Sam didn’t laugh.

Tough crowd.

“He’s going to be trouble,” Nadine said, finally turning away from Nate. She gestured towards him as if his lame quip proved all of her arguments. “Samuel is bad enough…but Nathan? He’s worked with Victor Sullivan for years, for god’s sake. You can’t trust him.”

He couldn’t stop himself. “Hey, don’t you dare badmouth Sully!” The thought of ‘ _Only_ I _can do that’_ floated through his mind. Guilt was a sharp knife to his gut as he remembered how he had treated his oldest and dearest friend.

“Nathan, _shut_ up!”

Ooooh, big brother voice. Better be quiet.

Sam then focused all his attention on Rafe, forcing himself to lower his body, looking more submissive. “Rafe, please. I need him with me. I can’t do it without him. Without Nathan, I won’t help you.” His voice had hardened at that. Perhaps Sam realized ordering around the man with a gun wasn’t a good idea so he added, “And he’ll be good. I promise.”

“Yeah well, I don’t promise,” Nate muttered, inwardly beaming when Nadine looked at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. So what if he was playing with his life. He got off on it, if Marlowe was to be believed. The memory of the old woman brought a shudder of revulsion.

Rafe tilted his head to the side, taking in both brothers with an easy smile. How was the bastard so calm? “Okay Sam, okay,” he finally relented, motioning for the gunmen to approach. He ignored Nadine’s fists balling in frustration. “Got that rope?” he asked.

One of the men grunted and produced a zip tie he had in a bag hooked to his belt. Nate belatedly figured that even Shoreline mercenaries took captives and needed some sort of restraint device. The idea wasn’t one that brought any comfort, however.

At least it was Rafe trussing him up instead of Nadine, or one of her lackeys. The other man was somewhat gentle with him, pushing his wrists together and then looping the zip tie. He pulled it tight, giving no illusions that he was serious about keeping Nathan at his mercy. He motioned again towards the mercenary, adding a second tie at a different angle. Contemplating the bound wrists, Rafe grinned and then signaled once more, adding a third. The ties dug into his skin, and Nate tried not to panic at the confinement. He felt helpless, unable to escape.

“Bit overkill, isn’t it?” he asked, forcing out a laugh. His voice sounded strained even to himself though. “How come brother dearest doesn’t get the same accommodations?” Not that he was complaining. Maybe Sam could get his hands on a knife, cut him free.

Rafe patted his cheek, and his smile turned dark. “He’ll behave with your life on the line.” How was Rafe so sure? Nathan wasn’t. “And you’re a bit more…wily.” He looked down at Nate’s hands, as if trying to imagine if all the rumors of his adventures were true. Nate didn’t offer any input on the matter, instead just sighing dramatically.  Rafe gave him one last grin before rising with an excited, “Alright, let’s go get Avery’s treasure!”

Nate shook his head in disbelief. Rafe motioned for them to follow, spinning about with no worry that they would obey. Sam leaned down, grabbing Nate’s wrists and helping him stand. He tried to push his brother away, resisting his help, but Sam stubbornly hung on. He didn’t let go until Nate made eye contact. “You need to listen to me and follow my lead,” he murmured, eyes dark and serious.

“Piss off,” he responded, but it was weak and tired.

The sound of a gun cocking caused both Drake’s to turn towards the noise. Nadine glared at the both of them. It was clear how she felt about the situation. “Move,” she ordered, voice sharp.

Nate couldn’t find it in himself to press his luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Z0VMI67a4Y
> 
> In case you have no idea what the referenced Pee-Wee Herman quote is. ;D


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize in the game Nate and the gang found the treasure within a day of being on the island. I’m just gonna say the land is treacherous and being stuck with Shoreline slows them down. JUST ROLL WITH ME ON THIS OKAY, I NEED TO DRAG THIS STORY OUT  
> ;D
> 
> Okay anyway, I am so happy with the reaction this story has gotten so far. Thank you all for your support! However, it makes me extremely nervous to continue... I want you all to have the same feelings throughout the entire story.  
> I have started to get an idea of how I maybe want it to go, but I have a feeling it's in a direction that may not be acceptable to the readers. Haha.  
> So, please tell me. Is there something you want to happen? Anything you DON'T? Or just keep going on whatever crazy direction we're headed? 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

“You know he’s going to kill us when we find the treasure.”

It wasn’t really fair for him to say. It had been him, after all, that had given in to Rafe’s threat in the first place. Sam had wanted to fight, wouldn’t have surrendered if Nate hadn’t. But he was feeling petty, wanted to hurt his brother in exchange for the pointless lies.

Well, perhaps not pointless. Would Nate have come along if he didn’t believe Sam’s life was in danger?

Sam didn’t even bother with an audible answer. He sent a sharp glare his way but then turned back, eyes on the road. They had met up with another group of mercenaries and then loaded up into three Shoreline vehicles.  The caravan had headed off in the direction Sam had indicated was the right way. Nate had sat resolutely quiet during Rafe’s interrogation about which way the treasure was, forcing his brother to do the talking. It would sting all the more that Sam had to give the information.

The mercenary sitting next to Nate chuckled at the exchange, waggling his eyebrows at him as he noticeably hoisted his gun further up on his lap. Nate rolled his eyes at the display. At least this one had a sense of humor though. The rest of the men seemed so serious, hadn’t appreciated Nathan’s quips whenever they took a quick break to switch up cars, get drinks, and relieve themselves. He’d finally gone quiet after one had given him a harsh punch to the stomach. It had caused quite the stir, Nadine in favor of the treatment while Sam raged at it. It’s not like Nate had been actively disobeying, but according to the Shoreline leader he needed some lessons in shutting up. Rafe had put an end to the argument, separating Nadine from the Drake brothers. She now was traveling in the vehicle behind them, and was none too happy about the arrangement.

One of Nadine’s right hand men was driving, Sam up front with him. Nate, bound in the backseat, had to share the space with the hulking mercenary next to him. Despite the Cheshire smile the other man had, Nate could tell he was dangerous, wouldn’t hesitate to put him in his place if need be. He cast his gaze at the vehicle up ahead, frowning when he caught sight of Rafe’s wide smile. The bastard.

He forced himself to look away, instead trying to take in the beauty of Libertalia. The structural engineering was astounding. The fact that the dwellings still stood, relatively intact, with the technological innovations alongside the buildings was simply fascinating. He yearned to have his hands free to sketch. The natural beauty of the island was so well blended with the manmade construction. It truly was marvelous, and he would have given anything to just have some time to take in the sights at a leisurely, non-stressful pace.

A deep bump in the road jarred his concentration, and he groaned at the intensity of the jolting. The vehicle answered with a sputter of its own, objecting at the rough path. It began to tremble, shaking the four occupants noticeably. The driver began to slow, pulling off to the side. “Mejor echar un vistazo,” he grunted, and the mercenary next to Nate nodded in agreement.

Nadine pulled up beside them. She shot the Drake brothers a glare, as if they had somehow been responsible for the holdup. Rafe’s car was in reverse, heading back towards the stalled group. Nate stood up, dramatically stretching and yawning. He was about to step out of the car when a heavy hand pulled him back down into his seat. He glared over his shoulder at the muscled gunman, who smiled widely at him. “Siéntate, amigo mío. No quiero arruinar tu preciosa cara.” The man guffawed at Nate’s indignant expression. He then hopped out of the car, seemingly unconcerned whether Nate obeyed or not.

Both men from his car were huddled around the front of the vehicle, rattling off in Spanish with one another. Nadine had joined them, speaking in low tones as they inspected the engine and wheels. Nate leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes, trying to find some sense of peace in all this. The sun was pleasantly warm, at least, and he soaked up the rays on his face, enjoying the intense heat on his skin.

“Nate.”

He cracked one eye open, forgetting his head was leaned back, and stared directly into the sun. “Oh crap,” he complained, sitting up straight and blinking rapidly. When he finally regained a semblance of vision, he looked at Sam, a brow shooting up in question. “What?”

“We have to come up with something,” he whispered, eyes darting around to make sure no one was near enough to hear him. Luckily it appeared that all Shoreline mercenaries close enough, Nadine, and Rafe were too busy trying to figure out what was wrong with the car.

Nate snorted. “Well yeah.” Shaking his head, he looked at his brother incredulously. “I just wanted us to make it out of that situation alive. I don’t plan on sticking around with Rafe.” The name was like charcoal in his mouth.

“I know that, Nathan,” Sam deadpanned.

“Then why were you such an ass about it?”

“I wanted it to be believable, you idiot.”

“Yeah right, you just thought I was really giving up.”

“I did n-“

“Yeah you did, yeah you did, yeah yo-“

“Okay stop!”

They glared at one another until Sam finally broke, looking down with a guilty expression. “I’m really sorry, Nathan. I just wanted my little brother with me. I needed to find Avery’s treasure and I thought… Well I thought you wouldn’t come.”

He sighed deeply, trying to keep a hold of his anger. But this was _Sam_. How could he stay upset with him? “I don’t know if I would have,” he admitted. “I had a good thing going. I love Elena so much… I’d given up this part of my life.”

“You can’t just give up a part of yourself,” Sam said, voice soft, but strong with conviction. “It doesn’t just go away.”

And damn it, Sam was right. He had missed this. The danger, the heartracing adrenaline, the perilous obstacles, the near death experiences. He had missed it all. But he refused to admit it.

“I gave it up,” he argued. “And I was happy.”

“Uh-huh.” Sam didn’t sound convinced.

A tight silence fell between them, tense in a way Nate couldn’t recall ever happening between them. “Why didn’t you find me sooner?” he finally asked, voice so quiet he doubted his brother would hear.

But Sam did, and the stricken look on his face was answer enough. “I’m sorry, Nate. I just… I was obsessed, you know? And Rafe was always around and… I just couldn’t risk it until I was ready.”

Nate nodded. He could understand obsession, how the promise of an undiscovered city, a lost treasure, a rumored legend could ensnare a man. He had gone through it countless times himself. Who was he to judge Sam for it? But the hurt was still there. His brother had been free and hadn’t bothered to seek him out. He tried to push the feeling away, tried to ignore it, and was relatively successful. But Nate knew it festered deep down despite himself.

“So got any ideas?” he asked, eyes briefly darting towards their enemies at the front of the car.

Sam grimaced. “Workin’ on it.” His fingers fumbled as he groped around in his pocket, taking out a cigarette with a shaking hand.

“Those things will kill ya,” Nate joked, smiling weakly.

“If Rafe doesn’t first,” Sam answered, smirking back at him. And instantly their old camaraderie was back. Nate longed to reach forward and hug his irritating, infuriating, insufferable, pain-in-the-butt… lovable brother.

The moment was cut short when Rafe hopped into the driver’s seat, flashing the brothers a grin. “Here’s the deal,” he began, twisting his torso so that he could look at both of them as he spoke. “The axle is bound to break and it won’t be safe to drive any further. Nadine doesn’t trust me to keep the two of you rounded up on foot.” As if they could keep him contained anywhere. The nerve of these people. Nate had to force himself to suppress his sneer. “So we’re gonna camp here for awhile and wait on reinforcements.”

* * *

They ended up literally setting up camp. A few tents were pitched, a campfire was made, food was served. Nate couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps reinforcements were going to take longer to arrive than first anticipated. Nadine stood apart from the group the entire time her men worked on getting the area ready. She was speaking into a walkie-talkie, alternating between gruff voices and near shouts as she communicated with her comrades. He tried to ignore her every time she glared over at his seated form. One positive of his restraints was that he wasn’t expected to help set anything up, while Sam was roped into helping Rafe with his tent. Of course the rich boy would have a semi-extravagant tent in the middle of an island treasure hunt. Nate couldn’t help but marvel at the size of it.

The storm that had swept across the island earlier had left much of the ground muddy. They were using a clearing close to the un-drivable vehicle, wanting reinforcements to be able to easily find them. It wasn’t an ideal place to stay, however. The ground was soft and slick with mud, and it was a challenge to get any of the tent poles to stay upright. Nate watched with a fair bit of amusement as his brother struggled with a pole, Rafe nearby slipping in the sloppy mud. He couldn’t stop a laugh from escaping when Sam fell outright, landing on his ass with an audible squelch.

“This is bullshit,” he complained to Rafe, crossing his arms like a petulant child. Nate continued to laugh all the while, even when Sam picked up a clump of mud and chucked it his way. It wasn’t an accurate throw anyway.

“I hate to admit it, but I agree. This is not a suitable place to camp,” Nadine said as she approached the group. “Too many escape routes for them.” She eyed Nathan and Sam as she said it.

Rafe laughed. “They aren’t stupid enough to try.”

“I might be.” Nate smiled sweetly, but wasn’t surprised when Rafe didn’t find his comment amusing.

“It’s not a defendable spot either,” Nadine continued.

Rafe snorted in disbelief. “Who’s gonna attack us out here?”

“One of our trucks are missing.” Her voice was flat.

Sideeying the Drake pair, Rafe asked, “How recently missing?”

“In the last hour.”

It was like a switch went off. One minute Rafe was calmly holding a tent stake and the next he was pistol-whipping Sam with his now un-holstered weapon. The gash on Sam’s nose reopened, gushing with blood and mixing with the grime on Sam’s skin. “Who did you bring here?!” Rafe was screaming, kicking at Sam with an insane fury.

Nate had leapt to his brother’s aid despite his bound hands, but the muscled mercenary from the backseat had been just as quick, restraining Nate with a crippling chokehold. “Cálmese,” the man growled, but Nathan ignored him, twisting and flailing within the tight grip. He watched helplessly as Rafe continued to beat on Sam, delivering several kicks to his stomach and chest before stomping away with a strangled snarl of rage.

His mind was racing with possibilities. So obviously they had been with Rafe for over an hour. It couldn’t have possibly been either Drake brother that stole the car. Maybe some of Nadine’s men weren’t so loyal, had defected and gone off to find the treasure for themselves? He twisted as much as he could in the chokehold, trying to get a glimpse of the mercenary leader. She seemed tense, yeah, but not quite as much as if she had received a report that some of her soldiers had committed the theft. So who did that leave? Maybe some of Libertalia’s ancestors still roamed the island? Pirate ghosts?

The mercenary finally released him, so Nate scrambled toward his groaning brother, heedless of the mud he was mucking through. Sam was cradling his face and curled into a ball. “Ahhh fuck,” Sam grumbled, but he removed his hands when he felt Nathan at his back. Thankfully the cut on his nose wasn’t that deep. In fact it didn’t seem any larger than it had been before. Maybe Rafe _had_ been holding back despite the apparent brutality of the assault.

“Let me feel,” Nate murmured, using his restrained hands as best he could. He put his hands up under Sam’s shirt, poking at his ribs and inspecting the skin there. None appeared to be broken, and Sam only hissed in pain at certain points of his inspection. Maybe a few were cracked? He sure hoped not. Rafe didn’t need any further reason to get rid of them. He was sure their captor wouldn’t appreciate being slowed down, whether it was an injury he had caused or not.

Sam blearily looked up at him once Nate finished checking him over. “Will I live?” he asked. He smiled at him, and Nate shook his head in exasperation.

“Unfortunately.”

“Ah shut up, you know you love me.”

Nate couldn’t fight back the smile. “Yeah, I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not speak Spanish, so please correct me if I spelled/translated anything wrong!
> 
> Mejor echar un vistazo = Better take a look  
> Siéntate, amigo mío. No quiero arruinar tu preciosa cara = Sit down, my friend. I don't want to ruin your beautiful face  
> Cálmese = Calm down


	3. Chapter 3

Rafe and Nadine bickered after that, trying to decide if indeed the Drake brothers had brought along associates or if they were just as clueless about the stolen vehicle. They pretty much left them alone, though, and Nate was grateful for that. The mercenaries were finishing up setting up the camp, thankfully not making them help.

Nate assisted Sam in hobbling over to a fallen log at the edge of the clearing. Unfortunately it wasn’t near enough to the treeline for any hope of an easy getaway. If they made a break for it from there it would be dicey. But Nate tried to ignore the thought and instead focused on his brother. They sat down, backs against the log, and Sam leaned heavily against his side. Nate let him, not wanting to say anything. Sam hated to show weakness and he probably was too exhausted to realize how apparent it was that he was in more pain than he was letting on.

“Who do you think it was?” Sam’s voice was tired and low.

Nate shrugged. “Rival treasure hunter? Rafe wasn’t exactly subtle at the auction. Maybe got someone else curious about what he was after.”

Sam sat quietly, contemplating. For a few moments the silence stretched. “I don’t know. Maybe,” he finally sighed.

The mystery itched at him too, but there was no use worrying about it, Nate figured. Whoever it was was most likely foe rather than friend. If they distracted Nadine and Rafe though, he wasn’t complaining.

Sam shifted, leaning his cheek more firmly into Nate’s shoulder. “Nadine has a knife strapped to her hip,” he murmured as he closed his eyes.

A snort crinkled Nate’s nose. “Yeah, you wanna get your ass kicked some more trying to get it?”

“Nah, thought you could try.”

They both chuckled and then fell into a comfortable silence once more. The fauna around them whispered in the gentle breeze and exotic birds cawed in the distance. Nate could hear rushing water somewhere near. A clump of brightly colored flowers speckled the far side of the clearing. Really, if their campsite were dry, it would have been a gorgeous place to spend the night. Not for the first time Nate itched to sketch their surroundings.

Night slid in slowly, and by the time the inky blackness was fully in place the mercenaries were finished with the tents and had gathered around the relatively large bonfire. They didn’t let loose due to their boss being there, but Nate could hear intermittent cackles of laughter and expletive laden exclamations. Nadine didn’t join the circle, aloof in a way that made Nate gloomy despite himself. He just couldn’t help it. He’d been so lonely during so many points of his life – when his mom passed, when Sam left the orphanage, when Sam had _died_ _,_ when he and Elena had separated so early on in their marriage – that seeing others in solitude brought him a sense of grief. Did Nadine even want to be here? Was she after Avery’s treasure for pleasure or necessity?

Rafe too couldn’t quite integrate himself into the group. The rich boy tried several times, but either his jokes fell flat or his remarks came off pompous. Rafe just had a condescending air to him. Nate couldn’t blame anyone for not liking him. Even when they’d been on the same side Nate hadn’t particularly enjoyed Rafe’s Company. Means to an end though.

Sam fell asleep at one point, snoring lightly. Nate’s arm was numb, but he sat still, not wanting to disturb the older man next to him. Instead he tried to block out the tingling discomfort of his arm with thoughts of escape. He had calculated how much of a chance they would have at getting away several times. Under the cover of darkness their chances grew, he figured. But Nadine was almost constantly facing in their direction, and her reflexes were a bit too quick for Nate’s liking. She was bound to get a good shot at them before they were able to reach the treeline, darkness or not.

And his chokehold happy buddy from the backseat made sure to leer his way every so often too, a not so subtle reminder that he and Sam may have been a ways off and were being left alone, but not forgotten. Nate grit his teeth in frustration. He was willing to risk his own skin, but Sam? No way. They would just have to wait for a better opportunity.

He calculated that it was close to midnight when headlights further down the slope of the road cut through the dark. Nate counted five more vehicles approaching. Two heavy duty trucks, a jeep, and two 4x4’s. The mercenaries around the fire whooped at the arrival and rose to greet their comrades.

Of course, chokehold friend kept his attention on the Drakes, a knowing smirk on his lips. As if Nate had ideas to run _now_. He was foolhardy, sure, but he wasn’t _stupid_. He almost stuck his tongue out at the mercenary, but decided against it when Sam groaned in his sleep. Best to not piss anyone off and keep everyone away. Sam needed the rest.

More unloading took place, more tents were pitched, and more food was cooked. Nate watched it all with interest, trying to figure out the pattern of movement. If he could just study his enemies enough he might be able to plan their escape. An opening always occurred, no matter how tightly the perimeter was guarded.

Exhaustion crept up on him and Nate found it harder and harder to keep his eyes open. He began to nod off, his head lolling forward every few minutes. When a hand settled on his shoulder he was startled into alertness, jerking in an attempt to get into a defensive position. Sam woke with a grunt of surprise, sliding away from Nate.

“Woah there. It’s just me.” Rafe grinned as he said it, seemingly pleased with the knowledge that he was a threat in his own right despite his reassuring words. In spite of being a spoiled brat, Rafe was a danger, charming smiles or not. “Ready for bed?” he asked, finally taking his hand away. Nate was able to breathe more easily with the removal of the appendage.

“Yeah you go on ahead. We’ll just nap out here,” Nate yawned.

Rafe didn’t smile. “We have an early start in the morning. It’s not the time for jokes.”

Nate rolled his eyes but stood up, making sure Sam was also able to stand. He didn’t miss his brother’s grimace as he stood straight and worry settled heavy in Nate’s gut.

Rafe spun around without further comment, clearly expecting he would be followed. It was then that Nate noticed a man standing off to the side. He was trying to look nonchalant, but Nate could tell he had been there for backup. He wasn’t sure if he was more amused or prideful of it. Rafe was _afraid_ of them and what they could do, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

It was with a fair bit of surprise when Rafe led towards his large tent, giving no indication they were headed anywhere but to his temporary dwelling. The armed man followed all the while, only a few paces behind them at all times.

“Are we having a sleepover?” Nate asked, not able to help himself.

This time Rafe did smile, but it was anything but friendly. “You’re staying with me, yes.”

Sam shook his head and shared a look of distaste with his brother.

Their captor reached towards the zipper at the front of his tent, pulling it open with an overeager flourish. “Now listen,” he said, without turning to face them. “You harm me, you try to escape, and you _will_ be killed. Guards are going to be posted outside all night.” He did turn now, and the manic gleam in his eye was enough to fill Nate with trepidation. “Naturally, it will be a slow death. Particularly brutal too.” Rafe shrugged like it hadn’t been him that had given those instructions. “But what can you do? My men are very protective of me.”

“Nadine’s men,” Nate corrected with a mumble.

Rafe’s glower was full of the promise of violence, but it passed quickly when Sam took a step closer to Nate, seeming to sense the danger.  It wasn’t like Rafe necessarily looked guilty over the visible wounds he’d inflicted on his brother, but it was enough of a reminder that he still needed these men and harming them might not be the best course of action. Instead of lashing out, Rafe took a deep breath and closed his eyes before his face became serene once more.  His voice when he spoke, however, revealed just how angry he still was. “If your own lives aren’t enough to sway you, then know this. I _will_ kill the old man and the woman if you cross me. Remember that, Drake.”

Nate bristled at the threat and his lip curled, but he didn’t dare speak. Beside him, Sam had stiffened.

Rafe beamed openly at their silence. “Good. Now that that’s settled, let’s go to bed.”

* * *

Knowing Rafe, he had nearly expected a four poster tempurpedic bed inlaid with gold and jewels. It was almost with disappointment when the spacious tent revealed only three bedrolls and a pack that was most likely Rafe’s travel belongings. The sleeping bags were unrolled and seemed to have been situated with purpose. The bedrolls were laid out in a triangle pattern, with the point closest to the entrance flap. Two of the unrolled bags were towards the rear of the tent, but at opposite ends in an effort to keep them separated. Rafe promptly sat down on the sleeping bag nearest to the tent’s entrance, stretching with lithe grace in what Nate was sure was a show.

Sam grumbled under his breath and flopped on the bag to the left, breath leaving him in a whoosh as his body collided with the thin material. Nate approached his own sleeping area slowly, eyeing the tent with a resolute scowl. The material wasn’t exactly heavy duty, would probably take just a bit of work to get through without a sharp object. It was definitely doable if you were determined enough.

The bonfire near the shelter illuminated bodies outside the tent on his end. He counted at least three mercenaries patrolling along the perimeter of his side, the outline of guns in their hands impossible to miss. He couldn’t be sure, but Nate thought he heard more footsteps on the other side of the tent, near Sam. An extra set of guards perhaps. Not to mention the man that had been protecting Rafe when he came to collect them, the one who had followed them back to the tent. He was probably still standing right outside the entrance.

Okay, so maybe they wouldn’t be escaping tonight.

He sat down gingerly on his sleeping bag, trying not to let the glumness of their situation bring his spirits down. There was bound to be the perfect opportunity for escape. They just needed to be patient.

Sam was still lightly complaining under his breath, tossing and turning on top of his bedroll. Nate could faintly see the sheen of sweat on his brow, and the small pout to his lips. His brother was uncomfortable, whether from the pain or temperature he wasn’t sure. Probably both. Then again, after spending thirteen years in Panama he was probably used to muggy heat. Nate himself didn’t notice temperature on a regular basis anymore. He had encountered extremes on both ends and his body was adaptable. Of course he _complained_ whenever the situation called for it – the memory of being train wrecked and _shot_ in snowy Tibet rang a bell. But it wasn’t like he was affected by it enough to take much notice. Sam though? Maybe Sam had suffered in more ways than one in his prison stay. Maybe his lungs just couldn’t take the humidity. Smoking probably didn’t help with his respiratory health. It wasn’t likely, though. Sam bitched to him about anything and everything, but in front of an enemy? Over temperature? Either Sam was really hurting bad, or was he just trying to irritate Rafe.

“Can he get some pills or something?” Nate finally spoke up, his irritation clearly evident. “When you beat the shit out of someone it’s-“

“He did _not_ ,” Sam interrupted with a plaintive whine, his pride clearly stung. “Got a few lucky shots is all.”

Rafe groaned and sat up, turning towards Nate and shooting him a dirty look. “Would you two just shut up?” he griped.

“We offered to sleep outside.”

“Drake,” Rafe growled, a clear warning if he’d ever heard one. But he was also standing up and heading towards the tent entrance, so Nate was going to count it as a win. He disappeared out the flap with a quick, “Hey!” and then his voice was fading.

Nate twisted to face Sam. “How are you? Really.”

His brother huffed. “Hurts like hell. But I’ve had worse.”

In his mind’s eye he saw Sam gasping, blood spurting from his mouth. A loosening grip, desperate pleading, and then a crash as the older man fell. The phantom despair left over from that day almost choked him before he forced himself to return to the present, see Sam’s face, _alive_. “Yeah,” he forced out. “I hear ya.”

Sam sat up with a grunt of exertion. “I don’t think they’re cracked. Bruised probably.”

Nate couldn’t shake his somber disposition. “Let’s hope.”

Sam grinned. “Oh ye of little faith.” When he took in Nate’s bleak expression his smile fell. “Nate, I’m fine. Really.”

He didn’t get a chance to respond before Rafe was back.  Their captor tossed a water bottle at Sam and rolled his eyes when the older man fumbled with it. His brother caught the next throw, and Nate spotted two white pills before Sam’s hand clasped around them. Sam didn’t even question it before he popped the drugs into his mouth, swallowing them with a quick swig of water.

“Now, will you both go the fuck to sleep?”

“Yes sir!” Nate chanted, doing his best to salute with his hands contained the way they were.

He flopped down on the sleeping bag before he could see Rafe’s reaction to his snark.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added tag for: (Very brief) nonconsensual touching

His sleep was anything but restful. His dreams were dark and murky, filled with watery images of those he held most dear. Elena’s wispy fingers reached urgently toward him, but they could never touch no matter how much they strained. Teartracks glistened on her cheeks and her eyes were hollow with defeat. She began to slowly fade away, and he was shouting her name, over and over, but he couldn’t hear his own voice.

Sully appeared when Elena’s form dissipated. His hair was disheveled and there was a wild, hysterical look in his eyes. His mouth was forming frantic shapes, and though Nate realized he should have been able to hear, there was _nothing_. The silence was deafening. And he couldn’t read his friend’s lips – they were moving far too fast for him to make sense of them.

A sudden crack caused Sully to stumble. Red bloomed through the middle of his chest and he looked down. He didn’t look surprised. A resigned sigh escaped the older man before he fell to the ground, blank eyes staring up at Nate with finality. Elena had appeared by Sully’s side, and her head was thrown back, her mouth open in a silent wail. Nate tried to wade through the inky blackness to get to them, desperate in his efforts.

Sam was there too, he abruptly realized. His brother was further back, head hanging low. He called to him, begging for help. When Sam looked up he recoiled from the sight. His brother’s eyes were missing, two dark holes marring his face.

Nate couldn’t hear himself screaming. The silence was still in place, suffocating him. He could feel hands on him, touching him, shaking him, but all he wanted was to get away. He fought, not sure if he was dreaming or if he had entered some sick reality.

“Drake!”

The silence was broken by Rafe’s voice, and he was so grateful just to _hear_ something that he all but sobbed as he lunged forward, straight into his captor’s chest. The hand that was on his shoulder tightened in reflex, expecting Nate to try and attack. But all he did was breathe deeply, trying to ground himself into the present. Rafe smelled lightly of sweat and minty cologne, and goddamn if it wasn’t the best thing he’d ever gotten a whiff of. His eyes were closed, but he took in the sounds with a despairing ear. Mercenary boots squishing in the mud, the bonfire crackling, Sam’s heavy breathing and tentative “Nate?”. …Rafe’s steady heartbeat.

Realizing he was still snuggled up as close as he could get to the younger man, Nate pulled away, embarrassment blazing a trail down his spine. Goosebumps peppered his skin and he breathed deeply, trying to orientate himself. _It’s okay. Just a dream. Pull it together you big baby._ He hadn’t reacted this harshly to anything since…well, since Sully had appeared to die in his drug addled mind back in Ubar.

A large, heavy hand settled on his back, and Nate didn’t have to open his eyes to know it was Sam. When he didn’t recoil from the touch his brother drew closer, pulling him in tighter. “You okay?” he asked, voice soft and gentle. Nate couldn’t help but breathe in, immensely comforted when he caught hints of cigarette smoke. It was so familiar, and so _Sam_.

“Yeah,” he breathed, but his voice was shaky.

“Look at me,” Sam whispered, obviously concerned when Nate made no move after that.

Why was it that he could blaze a trail through a hail of gunfire, scale the tallest buildings with nothing to catch him if he fell, face the harshest of elements and obstacles, endure Elena’s rants and lectures, but he could hardly bring himself to look at his brother? He was so afraid that Sam’s eyes would be gone, empty pits like in the nightmare, that he almost shook his head in denial. But ultimately, he forced his eyes open and turned to face his worried brother.

Nathan Drake may have been a lot of things, but he wasn’t a coward.

Relief sent a chill through him when he saw that Sam was safe and whole. Well, minus the new wounds from when Rafe attacked him. Nate sprang forward and buried himself in the crook of Sam’s neck. He couldn’t hug his brother due to his bound hands, but he huddled as close as he could.

Sam tensed, and Nate was certain he was surprised. They were loving brothers, sure, but neither of them was especially demonstrative in their affection. They may playfully punch one another, give hugs, but that was about as far as it went. When they were younger Nate had sought out Sam in ways like this, wanted to be held and comforted when the weight of their mother’s death and their father’s cruelty was too much. But as he had grown, so too had he outgrown the need for physical comfort from his brother.

Now though, he couldn’t get close enough. He yearned for Elena and Sully, wanted to feel them and make sure they were okay. But it wasn’t going to happen, and he knew it. So he took all he could from Sam, tried to draw strength from his older brother. Why was he being so weak? What was wrong with him?

_You could lose them all. For real._

The thought was so startling, so heart crushing, that he felt lightheaded. He thought he might faint, and his breathing began to quicken. Stars danced behind his eyelids.

“What’s wrong with him?”

Rafe’s tone sounded irritated, but there was a tint of worry there. How touching. So he actually _did_ care. Nate almost laughed at the entire situation.

“Nathan?” Sam questioned, his voice cautious. His brother shook him gently.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Nate exhaled, so close to his brother’s neck that when he spoke his lips brushed against Sam’s skin.

He pulled away reluctantly, smiling weakly at Sam before looking up at Rafe. Their captor wasn’t crouched down like Sam was, but he was hovering close. The tension lines around his eyes were back, and his frown was set in deep. He let his gaze fall away, sighing lightly. Nate noticed the tent flap was open, a guard’s head poking in, staring straight at him. The tip of the rifle in his hands was obnoxiously visible. “All good?” he rumbled, and Rafe waved the man away with a dismissive gesture.

“What time is it?” Nate asked. “And can I get these damn things off please?” He shook his bound hands up at Rafe in emphasis.

Rafe snorted and ran a hand through his mussed hair. He completely ignored Nate’s first question. “Nadine would kill me.”

“If we don’t first,” both Drakes answered in unison, and Nate turned towards his brother with a wide toothed smile. The echo from their earlier conversation was obviously remembered by them both, and if Sam’s smirk was anything to go by he found the moment just as humorous as Nate. It was like they had never been apart. How could it be, that fifteen years had passed? Their shared sense of humor, their comradery, their bond. It was as solid as it ever had been.

Then why had Sam lied?

The hurt of Sam’s deception was like an aching wound that he had been distracted from. You could get busy doing something else, forget about the pain for a while, but it was still there until it actually healed. He swung his gaze towards his brother, taking in the worry he saw there. Sam loved him so much. Why had he lied?

Before he could spiral down, let the mood of his dream and his hurt drag him into misery, Rafe was crouching in front of them. “Don’t make me regret this,” he warned. He produced a pocket knife and began to remove the zip ties. When all three were cut, Rafe resumed standing. Nate couldn’t believe his hands were free. Sam was staring at Rafe in equal disbelief, shocked that the younger man would give in like that.

Nate flexed his hands, rubbing at his wrists in an effort to increase circulation. “Thanks Rafe,” he said, looking up at him.

The knife was still out, still in his hands. He was turning it over and over, looking down at them, considering. Rafe opened his mouth, seemed to reevaluate, and then closed it again. He shoved the knife into his back pocket - (Nate took avid note on that) - and turned back towards his sleeping bag.

“Like I said, don’t make me regret it,” he said as he slid back in, not even bothering to look at the brothers.

Sam patted his back a final time, and as he began to move away, Nate felt irrational fear take hold. He latched onto his brother’s wrist. “Could you- uh. Could… Ah, it’s stupid.” He felt his face heating in shame.

The corner of Sam’s lips turned up in a tiny smile. He understood even if Nathan couldn’t quite get it out. “Yeah, I can.” He lightly pried Nate’s hand away and went to retrieve his sleeping bag. Sam dragged it over to his corner and dropped it next to him, lying down, the same smile still in place.

Nate smiled in return and the fear began to trickle away. As long as Sam was close, he could keep an eye on him, keep him safe. “Thanks,” he murmured, still embarrassed despite Sam seeming to have no problem with the request. A comfortable quiet settled around the tent as each occupant strove to catch just a few more hours of sleep. But Nate felt his anxiety still writhing within, the nightmare nowhere near forgotten.

He could hear Sam’s heavy breaths behind him, and if he concentrated hard enough he could almost feel a tickle on the back of his neck. But it wasn’t _enough_. The overwhelming fear of losing Sam again, of those horrible pits where his eyes had been…it was too much.

Nate wriggled back slowly, trying to surreptitiously get closer. But eve in a state of almost asleep his brother noticed. “What’re you doing?” he asked, voice garbled with the weight of his weariness.

Flames of mortification scorched his cheeks. “Oh you know… Just cold is all.” How could he explain that he needed Sam’s touch to feel safe? It had been so long since he’d sought out his brother’s strengthening and comforting embrace. For god’s sake, he was a grown man. What was wrong with him?

Sam huffed, and the warm air danced across his skin. Nate felt goosebumps rise at the sensation.

“C’mere.” And before Nate could get out a sarcastic retort, Sam had looped an arm around his middle and was squirming closer. They lay flush against one another and Nate knew he should have been humiliated, or disgusted even. But instead the contentment was so intense he could almost convince himself it was Elena spooning him instead of his brother.

Tears began to pool in his eyes. He just couldn’t lose Sam again. When was the last time he had felt so complete? If he could just convince Elena, get Sully to forgive him, then he could have everything he had ever wanted. His life would be perfect. But he needed to get Sam away from this place, away from danger, away from _Rafe_.

Ever observant, Sam seemed to be able to sense his mood. Or perhaps he felt the tenseness in Nate’s body. He somehow held him closer then, gripped him tighter. “I’m right here, Nate,” he whispered, and he squeezed to accentuate his point.

“I don’t want to lose you again.” His voice was barely a whisper.

“You won’t. I promise.”

Nate lightly shook his head in denial. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

* * *

The rest of the night passed without incident, though when Nate woke he felt like he hadn’t truly slept at all. He was sore, his body protesting their escapades with fervor. His brain was sluggish, and his eyes could hardly stay open. Blinking slowly, he took stock of his surroundings before he made a move. Sam’s arm was still draped over him, though his snug grip had slackened in sleep. The mercenaries outside the tent were making a ruckus, and Nate figured they were probably starting to pack up to get moving. He could hear Rafe fiddling in his pack, the rustling of clothes indicating he was getting changed.

Fear from the dream lingered even in the light of day, but he was more able to brush it off, push it away to deal with later. With a groan, Nate sat up, trying not to wake Sam. He gingerly extracted himself and rose, stretching with a moan of discomfort. “God, I’m getting old,” he complained as he cracked his back.

He turned at Rafe’s chuckle and almost whipped right back around again at the sight. The younger man was stripped completely down, the bundle of his dirty clothes at his feet. Rafe made no move to cover himself, wasn’t uncomfortable in his nudity whatsoever. Nate felt like his eyes might just pop out of his head. He coughed, cheeks blazing, and averted his gaze.

“Don’t tell me the great Nathan Drake is scared of a dick.” Rafe’s voice was infuriatingly full of superiority and mirth.

Nate sneered but didn’t rise to the bait and look at his enemy. “I just don’t want one shoved in my face first thing in the morning.” He still stared resolutely up at the top of the tent.

“Mmmm,” Rafe mused. Nate’s heart began to beat wildly when he heard footsteps. Was Rafe approaching? What. The. Hell.

The younger man slinked up next to him, and Nate kept himself completely still. He was out of his element here. What was Rafe’s game, his intention? A hand began to caress along his shoulder, dipped down his torso, and snaked across his back. Rafe was shorter, but he somehow got his mouth up near so the whisper was intimately close to the shell of his ear. “What about shoved somewhere else then?” he purred, and one of his hand’s cupped Nate’s ass in a gesture that left little to the imagination.   

He was struggling to control his breathing, to remain calm. They lingered like that until Rafe pulled away with a snicker, returning to his clothes pile and his backpack. “Found a way to shut you up for once, eh Drake?” Rafe asked as he pulled a gray t-shirt on. Nate glanced at his captor despite himself, and Rafe flashed him a smile that was all teeth.

“I wouldn’t fuck you if you were the last human on earth,” Nate retorted, and hated how weak the comeback was. At Rafe’s harsh laugh, Nate began to sputter. “I’m not even gay anyway!”

Rafe began to laugh even more, and the noise had woken Sam up, who was groggily staring at the both of them in confusion. “What’d I miss?”

Rafe just laughed all the harder.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Nadine threw an all-out tantrum when she saw that Nathan’s bindings were gone. She almost lashed out in violence at his mischievous smirk, but Rafe stepped in. The two leaders argued back and forth as the mercenaries watched with avid interest. Honestly, Nate couldn’t understand why Rafe had indulged him. In all honesty, he really was more likely to make a run for it when his hands were free. Nate now suspected that Rafe was pushing his weight around and just wanted to leave Nate free to make a point.

In the end, Nadine and Rafe came to an agreement. Nate was to be tied during the day, but was granted a reprieve at night. He couldn’t say he was pleased with the outcome, but he understood. At least Sam wasn’t restrained. That gave them more of a chance. Nate hadn’t forgotten about Rafe’s stowed away pocketknife, after all.

He and Sam were separated, and Nate figured that was _Nadine_ making a point. His buddy from the day before was assigned to guard him, and Nate was growing increasingly disturbed by the open leer the man gave him whenever they made eye contact. He tried to ignore it, instead keeping his eye on Rafe and Sam’s vehicle up ahead. Rafe made a point to look at him before the caravan started up, and Nate practically seethed at the smile the younger man gave him.

But then they were setting off, and Nate was able to let himself fade into a relative sense of calm. The island was truly beautiful, and it was enjoyable to watch the sights flow by as a passenger instead of a driver.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am in the process of moving, so I apologize that updates haven't been as frequent. It's amazing how long moving takes. Even when you think you only have a little bit, it's like.... WILL THIS EVER END?!
> 
> Anyway, thank you all for reading. Hope it continues to satisfy. <3
> 
> And hope it's not getting too like... Oh I don't know. Unbelievable, or stupid, or whatever.

The trucks could only get them so far. The bumpy terrain just wasn’t suited for vehicles. After struggling through muddy swamps, hole filled trails, and too narrow passes Nadine and Rafe decided their hunt would just have to continue on foot if they wanted to find Avery’s treasure in a timely manner. Several men were left to guard the cars, but the majority of the party was to go on ahead. Nate marveled at the size of Nadine’s army. And this was just a fraction of it. How many had he and Sam already killed, how many were making their way towards them as even more backup, how many still waited as reinforcements on shore?

They were taking a quick break before they continued, and Nate wasn’t too eager to relieve himself in front of his personal guard. But duty called. His friend seemed to sense his awkwardness with the situation. He leaned against a tree and gestured toward a copse of leafy plants. The guard chuckled and said, “No te preocupes. No miraré.”

“Yeah I bet you won’t,” Nate muttered under his breath.

When he returned, he was almost jealous to see Sam talking with Rafe, his face lit up with anticipation. Rafe too seemed eager, and a self-satisfied smile was plastered on his rich boy face.

“New Devon should be just over that ridge,” Sam was saying, and he was pointing off in the distance, his movements wild with enthusiasm.

“It won’t be easy to get there,” Nadine interjected, always the pessimist.

Sam shook his head in exasperation. “Yeah but we’re almost _there_.”

Static crackled over Nadine’s walkie-talkie and she excused herself to speak with her lieutenant. Nate caught the words “two more patrols taken out“ before she had moved far enough away that he could catch no more. He shared a look with Sam, and neither missed the way that Rafe studied them. Anger simmered under a barely contained surface. Rafe still thought they were responsible for the third party on the island. He didn’t say anything as he moved to follow Nadine, however.

Nate watched as Sam took out a cigarette, and he couldn’t help but feel irritable with his brother’s easy smile. Didn’t he understand how much danger they were in? Didn’t he realize they were leading their rival to the treasure? Why was he so happy?

It was impossible to push away all of his frustrations with Sam. The lies, his attitude about the situation, his infuriating grin. It all grated on Nate’s nerves. His voice was tight as he asked, “How are your ribs?”

“Barely feel ‘em,” Sam announced, the cigarette dancing with the movement of his lips. He took a long drag, and sent a dreamy gaze in the direction of New Devon.

Eyes narrowing, Nate said, “I’m serious, Sam. If you’re hurting I need to know.”

Sam whipped around and laughed. “Nate, I don’t care if all of them are broken! We’re almost there! How could I focus on that when we-“

Nate rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m gonna get you some more pills.”

He walked away despite Sam’s calls after him. He had taken just a few steps before he was aware that his own personal guard was following him yet again. He turned to eye the larger man. Nate wasn’t sure if the mercenary had been assigned to him or if he had just taken it upon himself to watch over him. The muscled man had been with him since their capture, and had seemed to be ever present. Nate could feel the chokehold from the previous night aching along his neck as he eyed the much larger man. And his stare still gave him the heebie jeebies. Might as well be civil with him, though. Besides, he was pissed with Sam, so it made him feel like cozying up to the enemy. “What’s your name anyway?” he asked. “¿Cuál es su nombre?” he repeated, just in case his buddy didn’t understand English.

The man smiled at him warmly. “You can call me Luca,” he answered, his voice heavily accented.

“Nice to meet you, Luca.” He smirked before adding, “Wish it had been under better circumstances.”

Luca grinned widely. “It’s an honor to work with you, Nathan Drake.”

“Working with? Is that what we’re calling this?” Nate asked, raising up his bound hands and shaking them lightly.

Luca laughed but said no more, so Nate decided not to continue the conversation. Instead he milled around the group, asking men intermittently who he could get some medicine from. Most of the mercenaries sent him on his way with a hard glare, but some gave him vague instructions. Luca didn’t help, seemed content to let Nate figure it out. He didn’t mind though. The longer he was away from Sam, the better. It was with some frustration that he finally had to go to Rafe for help. Of course, the younger man seemed to gloat over the fact that the great Nathan Drake needed _his_ aid. But he got the pills without any trouble, and Nate grudgingly thanked him.

He hurried back to Sam, realizing that everyone was shouldering their packs. Nadine was visibly restless and was shouting orders. It wouldn’t be long before they headed out.

“Here.” Nate thrust out his hands towards his brother.

Sam eyed him with an arched eyebrow but he took the offered medicine, swallowing them dry. “Thanks Nate.” He smiled hesitantly. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He was still upset, but the quirk of Sam’s lip was infectious, and Nate couldn’t stop his own smile. “I know.”

Sam shook his head, and there was clear affection shimmering in his eyes.

* * *

Nate’s bindings had been removed out of necessity shortly after they had set out. Even though their group took paths that were more direct, less dangerous than what Nate usually chose, full function of all of his limbs were needed to keep up. Nadine had been sure to repeat the promise of her wrath with a quick lecture - along with Rafe’s reminder of the threat to Sully and Elena – when the zip ties had been cut. Nate had good-naturedly promised his cooperation, but both leaders seemed to sense he didn’t quite mean what he was saying.

Slowed down as he and Sam were by being stuck with Shoreline, they still made good time. Nate was actually fairly impressed with the precision of Nadine’s men. They were dexterous, full of stamina, and worked with a fastidiousness he hadn’t noticed at first. It was easy to view them as a mass of idiots during chases and shootouts, but when spending time with them Nate realized how skilled the mercenaries were in their own right. (Not that they held a candle to him, of course. But still.) He didn’t appreciate how serious they were, but he could understand it. Nadine ran a tight ship that left little room for humor during working hours.

Luca was the exception. Whenever Nate caught his eye the bulky man was smiling and he chuckled whenever Nate made a joke. And while Nate would have expected his large buddy to have trouble navigating narrow cliffs, risky ledges, and steep climbs, he was surprised to find that the mercenary was quite adept. He seemed to enjoy the physical strain, and put his all into the maneuvers whenever it was required. Nate really thought they could have been partners, if not friends, if they weren’t on separate sides.

Even with the steady pace, they had just made it to the river rapids outside of New Devon by the time the sun began to set with a fiery orange glow. Despite not wanting the enemy to succeed, Nate was disappointed they hadn’t made it to the mysterious town. But another day bought him some more time, so he tried not to be too saddened.

Camp was set up quickly and efficiently. Most of the mercenaries laid their rolls right out in the open. Only a select few had tents. Many of the men hustled about the campsite, setting up small fires, clearing away stray brush, getting food ready. Sam and Nate stood with Rafe, who was surveying over the bustling mercenaries with an approving eye.

Nate could tell that Sam was exhausted. Pain meds, adrenaline, and excitement could only numb the pain so much. His brother was smoking and was making an effort to appear detached, but Nate caught the way he grimaced as he shifted from foot to foot. Sam needed to rest.

Rafe picked up a lumpy backpack and handed it to Nate, indicating he was to carry it. Though it irked him, Nate was actually thankful when Rafe bossily motioned for them to follow. Rafe didn’t take them towards his tent though, and Nate was filled with confusion. They headed upstream, away from the group of mercenaries. Nate began to grow excited as the army faded into the background. It was just him and Sam, and Rafe. They could easily overpower the younger man, make their getaway. Darkness was coming, and though they were both fatigued, surely they’d be able to get away.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

Rafe’s voice startled Nate, and his eyes widened at the accusation.

Their captor turned around, arms open wide in an invitation. “Go ahead. Run.”

Alarm bells clanged in his head. Was this a test?

From behind Nate, Sam grunted. Nate turned his head enough to look at Sam. His brother shook his head. _Don’t you dare_. He could see the whites of Sam’s eyes, almost like he was terrified.

Okay, so if Sam wasn’t going to take the opportunity, then maybe he was missing something. Nate’s eyes flicked around, studying the brush and watery weeds along the bank. He didn’t spot anyone. He inspected Rafe, saw no holstered gun there. Scanned the riverbed for planted mines or traps. Frustration began to mount. What hadn’t he noticed?

Rafe’s mocking grin caused his temper to flare. He whipped around to Sam to demand what it was he was so worried about. And that’s when he saw the red laser beam aimed squarely in the middle of his chest. Sam had seen it on Nate’s back while Nate hadn’t been aware. That’s why he had looked so afraid. Of course Nate could now see there was one trained on his brother too.

Icy horror washed over him. He had just about gotten his brother killed with his rash thinking. He should have known Rafe wasn’t going to take an unnecessary risk. And if there were snipers planted, maybe there were men Nate just couldn’t see, hidden out in the darkness.

He felt himself deflate, and he just about let out a moan of despair. But Sam was approaching slowly (not giving the gunmen any excuse to shoot), wrapping a comforting arm around his shoulders and holding him. “Be patient,” he whispered. Nate couldn’t help but lean into his embrace.

Rafe waited a moment to speak, and if Nate didn’t know better he thought maybe he was letting them have their moment. “Alright, come on. You both stink. And you’re not getting in my tent until you’re clean.”

Neither brother commented. Normally Nate would have retorted with some sort of insult or quip, but he just couldn’t bring himself to find his jester side. Their situation was becoming bleaker as time went on and he truly feared that he sand Sam might just not get away. They were going to die here and he would never reconcile with Elena or Sully. Tears threatened to form. _God Nate, you’re such a crybaby._ But even his inner cynic felt dismayed by their capture, so it didn’t berate him any further.

They trudged up the bank a bit further. Nate’s movements were jerky with nerves, and he couldn’t help but scan the darkness in search of more hidden mercenaries. When they finally reached a stretch of water that wasn’t too swift, Rafe brought them to a halt. The rifle sight beams had disappeared at that point, but Nate wasn’t willing to test and see if they still lurked in the darkness. There was a deep pool of water in the slow area of the river. It wasn’t stagnant, but it was calm enough that they could sit and soak if they desired.

Of course, Nate had no desire to relax in front of Rafe.

But if that’s what they were there for, then might as well get on with it. He set down the pack he had been carrying and took a step towards the water, fully clothed.

“Nathan, please. Don’t be dramatic.” Rafe had his hands on his hips and a disbelieving, frustrated pout on his face.

Meanwhile, Sam was stripping down, as unperturbed by his nude body as Rafe had been with his that morning. He threw his clothes down on the bank and brushed by Nate, sinking down into the water with a hiss. “Shit, that’s cold,” he complained.

Rafe rolled his hand at Nate in a ‘get on with it’ movement.

Nate was firmly of the position that he was _not_ undressing. “My clothes have to be washed anyway,” he reasoned, hating the whine in his voice. “They’re all sweaty. And stinky. Downright potent with musk. You probably don’t want to get near. So I’d better just-“

“Nathan, get undressed,” Rafe interrupted, and his tone was heavy with finality.

He wasn’t sure why he was trying so hard to avoid this. “You just want to see me naked,” Nate accused, his voice pathetically weak. “Perv,” he added. Sam had waded close to the bank when he noticed Nate’s hesitation and Rafe’s expression. Nate’s cheeks flared at the idea of his brother seeing him nude.

Rafe crossed his arms. “Well of course I do, Nathan.” Nate tried to decipher Rafe’s tone. Was he being serious, or trying to be humorous? Nate didn’t find it funny. “But I also have a change of clothes for you. So get out of those rags.”

Sam actually sniggered, finding Nate’s discomfort amusing. “Yeah come on, _Nathan_. It can’t be that small, can it?” He slapped the water as he laughed at his own joke.

“This has nothing to do with the size of my…” Nate sputtered. “I’m not in the habit of undressing in front of a crowd.” His cheeks could not possibly get brighter.

Rafe was growing more irritated by the minute, and though Sam seemed to be enjoying his stalling, Nate wasn’t sure he wanted to test the younger man. Rafe had been willing to have them shot if they had ran just minutes ago. What would he do if Nate refused a direct order? If Sam hadn’t been there he might have resisted, but as it was… Well whatever. He had nothing to be ashamed of.

With a huff, he began to take his clothes off, ignoring Rafe’s pleased smirk. The younger man also began to strip after confirming Nate’s compliance. Nate just about rolled his eyes when he saw that Rafe was making a point, taking his shirt off in what he probably thought was a sexy move. He turned around, away from the two other men and just focused on getting everything piled in one area.

When he was naked he rushed to the water, paying no mind to Sam’s gleeful expression and Rafe’s open stare. Sam was right – the water was cold. But it was a refreshing chill, and he embraced it. Nate submerged fully, closing his eyes and staying at the bottom until his lungs began to beg.

The water’s current drifted him away from Rafe and Sam, so when he returned to the surface he was a few yards away. He eyed the pair, incensed that they seemed to be at ease in each other’s company. Sam had both arms on the bank, allowing his body to float out in front of him. Rafe stood close to him, chatting amicably while Sam smiled at whatever he was saying. It hurt to imagine them this way for the two years they’d worked together. …Before Sam had found him. Nate felt treachery constricting around his heart again.

He paddled over to the pair with a dark frown, trying not to look at them. Jealousy was a creeping vine that wound throughout his body. Sam was _his_ brother. _His_ friend. _His_ partner. Sam was _his_. Not Rafe’s. How dare he try to come between them. When neither man acknowledged him, Nate waded away, exploring along the bank. He tried to categorize some of the plants, recognizing many of the species but at a loss with several. _I need to take some samples for my journal_.

He entertained himself by diving beneath the river’s surface and holding his breath, striving for longer and longer each time. Once in a while a stray minnow would dash by, its dull scales just barely glistening in the scarcely there light above. At one point he thought he spotted the hilt of a cutlass, and grew excited by the find. But his eyes had deceieved him, and Nate blamed it on the dark water and disappearing light.

The sun was almost set, a deep pink hue on the horizon the last remnants of its light by the time Nate finally grew bored enough to give up his searching. They hadn’t called him back, or even acknowledged his presence, but he Nate turned to head back to his brother and captor, figuring they had to be clean enough by now and would be leaving soon. He pulled himself upstream, against the current, relishing the feel even though his muscles ached with weariness. He sifted his hands through the fine sand that edged the underwater bank, and he smiled. What a wonderful place this island was. Maybe he should buy it, build a resort out here. He was so distracted by his thoughts that he didn’t notice anything amiss until he was but several yards away.

When he took in the sight of Rafe and Sam, it almost stopped his heart.

Rafe had settled in between Sam’s floating legs, their bodies pressed against one another. The younger man had a hold of Sam’s hair, in a possessive grip that spoke of familiarity. Both were visibly panting, and Sam had a deep smirk painted on his lips. Rafe’s lips formed some words and then he was lowering his face, latching onto Sam with a vicious kiss. It wasn’t gentle, the way they kissed. It was rough nips of teeth and harsh tongues.  Sam obviously didn’t mind the treatment, as his hands had woven around Rafe’s body, pulling the smaller man more firmly against him.

Before he realized just what he was doing, Nate was scrambling towards the edge of the river, tears clouding his eyes and utter betrayal blocking his lungs from getting oxygen. Nate pulled himself up and out, clambering through the weeds and water fauna on the bank. And then he was running, his breaths short, watery, and filled with sobs. He had to get _away_.

What had Sam been doing? Why had he allowed Rafe to touch him like that? Okay fine, Rafe’s threat on their lives was pretty convincing. But Sam had seemed to be…enjoying it, not just tolerating it. Rafe had hurt him, had attacked him twice since they’d been on the island. The bastard had tried to kill them in Madagascar – didn’t Sam remember the motorcycle chase? Why would Sam forgive that?

He didn’t make it far before he was stopped with a machine gun pointed straight at him. The mercenary that cornered him was unforgiving, refused to just take him back to camp. Orders to keep him by Rafe, apparently. Nate almost thought about refusing. He just couldn’t imagine returning and facing what he had witnessed. But even through Sam’s treachery, Nate still loved him, and he wouldn’t put him in danger just because his brother had kissed the biggest prick on the planet.

“Nathan, Nathan,” Rafe tsked when he was brought back. Sam at least had the decency to look guilty when they made eye contact. “Why’d you run? You’re lucky you weren’t killed.” Rafe seemed genuinely curious. Did he not realize what Nate had seen?

Nate stood on the bank, for once not caring that he was naked in front of his brother, Rafe, the mercenary that hadn’t retreated just yet. His mouth opened, closed, opened again. He sputtered, couldn’t find the words past his fury and hurt and shame. Tears still threatened to fall and he threw up his hands, unable to voice what he was feeling.

“Oh god,” Rafe said, his eyes widening at Nate’s display. “He didn’t tell you about _this_ either?” Rafe whirled on Sam, who sheepishly glanced at him. “Samuel, what’s wrong with you?”

“To be fair, I thought… this was done,” Sam muttered.

Nate finally found his voice, and pure venom filled it. “What’s going on, Sam? I mean…this is… You were… With… Oh god. Sam! This is… Rafe!” He threw his hands up in the air once more. “The dude who would kill us without a second thought. You know, _that_ guy?”

“Oh, I just hate to come between brothers,” Rafe sighed, but the look on his face was anything but remorseful. “Well actually,” he amended, giving Nate a once over with an arched brow. “I wouldn’t mind _coming_ between the two of-“

“Shut up!” Nate couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He began to pace, trying to make sense of the bombshell that had just exploded in his life.

“Nathan, come here.” Sam’s voice was authoritative.

Goddamn him. How dare he try and big brother his way out of this. “Fuck you,” Nate hissed, but he didn’t try and retreat.

“Get back in here. You haven’t even washed with soap,” Rafe tried, and at least his tone gave the illusion of choice. “In the pack I had you carry Nathan. Front pocket has the soap.”

He really didn’t want to obey. He wanted to punch Rafe in his pretty boy face and kick Sam in the balls, is what he wanted. He sneered at the both of them and refused to move. How dare they try and order him around.

“Have no illusions, Drake. Just because I fuck your brother doesn’t mean I won’t kill him. Now get the hell in here.”

Oh.

Well that certainly put things into perspective. Sam almost seemed hurt by the words, but he shrugged when he shared a look with Nate. “I promise I’ll explain. Just come on in,” Sam said, and he smiled. It was a lopsided grin that only lifted half of his lips, and Nate felt his heart swell at the sight. God, why did Sam have the ability to talk him into anything.

So he rummaged around in the backpack until he found the sticky bar of soap, and then he walked back into the water, handing the soap over to Rafe like he hadn’t just seen the man’s tongue down his brother’s throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No te preocupes. No miraré. = Do not worry. I will not watch.


End file.
